


Coming home

by KendraPendragon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt, Inspired by FRIENDS, Jealousy, Post TFP, Prompt Fill, Sherlock saying all the right things, Tears, a sprinkle of humor, slap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 21:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: Inspired by FRIENDS, the scene where Rachel left a message for Ross telling him she was over him - A Sherlolly take on this, post Season 4 TFP.Also, this is a prompt fill for @mizjoely for the phrase: "Wait. Are you jealous?"There are a lot of tears in this, but with a happy ending! Sherlolly is canon!





	Coming home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



> I have this idea of turning my favorite FRIENDS-scenes into Sherlolly-one-shots. This is sort of my first installment, we'll see how it goes. I think I made the scene work, let me know what you think. 
> 
> There is some swearing in here. Do I have to set the rating to Mature because of this?

"Uuughh..." Molly groaned as she dragged her body across the hall into her kitchen, every heavy step causing a rock concert in her head. Carefully she runs a hand through the wild hazelnut mop of hair blocking her vision and pulled up her red sleeping shirt with Chibi Santa Clause on it. It wasn't Christmas, but she loved the soft cotton feel of it against her skin. Also, the big blue anime eyes always cheered her up. She must have chosen it on purpose last night after she came home - from her date. Her first date after six months; after the phone.   
"Ugh, why would you think about that now?" she scolded her brain angrily and pulled open the cabinets to get a glass and some aspirin. Popping the lid open she tilted her head back and shook the plastic bottle until a pill slipped onto her tongue. Swaying dangerously, Molly quickly tilted her head forward and steadied herself on the counter. Taking the glass, she walked over to the sink and poured some water into it. She drank and swallowed down the pill, groaning as she was dizzy once more. Molly squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to chase the dizziness away. With the last bit of strength in her hung-over body she walked out of her open kitchen into the living room. Her legs gave in as soon as she reached her couch and fell down into the fluffy turqoise cushions. Molly groaned when her head bumped onto the backrest.   
_What the hell happened last night?_  
 _There might have been a restaurant..._  
 _There definitely was wine..._  
 _And a guy...what was his name again?_  
 _Mitch?_  
 _...Michael. Yes, Michael. Michael..._  
Huh. Even though she tried really hard, Molly couldn't remember anything else.

That's when a moan echoed through her living room. Her eyes snapped open.   
_That fucking moan._   
A wave of sickness rolled up inside her, which she tried to gulp down. Her eyes darted down to her coffee table. A black mobile lay there and it wasn't hers.

Excellent timing as always, the front door slammed into the wall, making her flinch; and once more when it was thrown shut again. In strolled the man who was the reason for her horrible hangover, so much she remembered now. That lewd text alert had gone off yesterday while she was getting ready for her date. Not just once. And she had turned it over and had looked at the screen. There had been a sharp pang in her heart; the same she felt right now as her eyes looked at him standing in front of her open fridge, ravishing through its contents.   
Right. He had been on a case, had left his phone at her place to get Mycroft off his back; had left his phone with her so she could listen to that bloody moan that alerted her of the bloody Woman's texts. Again, her chest clenched and she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the headache rather than the heartache.   
The door to the fridge closed. Rummaging. He was making himself a sandwich. Then footsteps coming closer.   
"You look like shit" Sherlock commented as he picked up the phone. With the Woman's texts on it.   
"Thanks", she replied hoarsely, refusing to look at him.   
"What happened on your big date? Was he so boring that you had to drink him funny? An engineer, was it? Did he talk too much?"  
"You talk too much", she grunted. He only chuckled and sat down on the stool at her high counter and devoured his sandwich, scrolling through his phone. Through her texts.   
_Stop hurting_ , she told her heart sternly and bent forward to bury her throbbing head in her hands. She had to go to bed and sleep this off.   
"Please clean the kitchen before you leave", she said weakly and dragged herself into the hallway with the bedroom as her destination.  
"You called me last night", did he shout after her.   
"No, I didn't. I was on a bloody date, you sodding-"  
"And you left a message."  
She stopped dead. Her blood ran cold as memories hit her hard.   
The restaurant. Michael's friendly face. His voice.  
"You just need closure, Molly."  
"Closure", she whispered in the hallway.   
Oh God. Oh dear God.   
She saw herself pulling out her phone and selecting Sherlock's contact. God, she even heard herself speak, her voice slurring from intoxication.  
 _"Sherlock! It's Molly. I'm just calling to tell you...I'm having a lovely time on this date...I'm with Michael and I'm having a good time. So, anyway, I just wanted to say...everything's fine. Between us. We're pals, aren't we? Pals...But hey, you're not pals with that woman, are you? Did you record that moan yourself? I was just wondering about how that came about. Just out of curiosity, of course. I'm fine. So very fine, Sherlock. In fact, I'm over you. I...am over...you. And that, my friend, is what they call closure."_  
Oh dear God. Oh dear God in heaven!  
"Sherlock!" Molly screamed, her hangover flushed out by the adrenalin. "Hang up the phone!"  
She darted back into the kitchen and her heart stopped beating when he saw him standing next to the coffe table, pressing his phone to his ear. Listening to her drunken words, a sly smile on his face.   
"Hang up, hang up, hang up!"  
She ran to him, fully panicking now, and as he half-turned away from her to get his phone out of reach she jumped onto the coffee table - and onto his back.   
"Give me the phone, gimme the phone!"  
He stumbled, listened, clutching his phone so tight she had to pry it out of his hand. It landed on the floor.   
Sherlock stood frozen with Molly as his rucksack, arms around his chest, thighs squeezed against his hips.   
Molly's heart pounded in her chest.   
Please, dear God, let him not have heard everything!  
"Y-You're...you're over me?"  
Lightning struck her. She wanted to die.   
"Oh God", she groaned and slid down his back onto her feet, for a moment pressing her face into the dark suit jacket. Then she turned away in shame, covering her face with both her hands.   
This couldn't be happening! She was having a hangover dream. This couldn't be real, for the love of God!  
She walked into the hallway and back again, her feet just as confused as her. Her brain was completely empty except for the continued "ohgodohgodohgodohgod" echoing from every corner. Molly couldn't think. And she needed to think. Or walk away. Yes, walking away might work.  
She was on her way into the hallway again when his raspy voice sounded behind him.   
"You're over me? When...When were you...under me?"  
"Goohood", she whined and walked back into the kitchen, to the fridge, opened it. Well, there wasn't a time tunnel in there, she thought bitterly and closed it again. When she turned around, she gasped.   
Sherlock. Standing in front of her. His eyes wide and confused, his brows knitted, his lips parted, his chest heaving just as fast as hers. His body heat and his heavenly scent clashed against her like a wave as he crowded her. Seconds passed in which he stared at her, one second his eyes so hopeful that a shudder ran through her, then back to confused...and finally angry. Very, very angry.   
_Oh oh_.   
He came a step closer, his face twitching with anger...and pain, as she would find out a second later.   
"You...said no...to me!"  
It felt like the entire house quaked from his words. Words he choked out. Words that tore her heart apart.   
Yes, she had said no to him. Two weeks after the phone call, when he had finally showed up at her doorstep and had told her what she had longed to hear him say...and mean. But back then she had been numb. Numb with the pain of this damned phone call, and with John's - John's! - explanation of why it had happened. It had hurt. She had hurt. From the pain to know that it had all been fake. That those three words had been said to save her life only. And that Sherlock hadn't even come himself to tell her. Never in her life had she cried and ached more. When Sherlock had showed up, she had been empty. So when he had told her that he had meant it, she had felt nothing but fear; fear that he would put her through something like this again. She had known she couldn't survive this pain for a second time. So she had told him no. Had told him that it would be best to remain friends...only friends. It had been so bloody difficult, but they had recovered enough to re-establish a friendship. Molly had accepted that it would never be the same, that they would never be as close as before all of this, but she had thought it could be enough. She had thought she could move on eventually. So she had accepted Michael's invitation and she would have moved on if it hadn't been for this bloody text alert which made her realise that Sherlock had moved on already.

And now they were here; in fucking hell.

"I came to you, told you that I loved you and you said no to me!"  
There was so much pain in his voice, dear God. He could hardly speak. Tears welled up in his eyes and his eyes lowered to her mouth.   
A jolt of fear rushed through her, memories of that horrible pain still a dark shadow on her soul. She couldn't go through that again. So she ducked her head and rounded him to flee for good.   
Sherlock's hand caught her elbow and pulled her back roughly. She stumbled and crashed into his hard chest, felt his thundering heartbeat as she pressed her hands against it to push him away.   
"Molly", he croaked and wanted to hold on to her.   
"No!" she nearly screamed; he let go.   
"Why are you doing this to me?!" he yelled, running his hands through his hair, starting to pace back and forth from kitchen to living room and back again.  
"Me?!"  
Molly couldn't believe her ears.  
"I was finally doing fine! I felt like myself again! You had no right to leave this message!"  
"Because all that matters are your feelings, right?!"  
His head whirled around and he looked at her as if she had slapped him. He panted through parted lips, then took a deep breath.   
"You. Said NO. To ME!"  
"YOU BROKE MY HEART!"  
He flinched. But now that it had burst out of her, Molly didn't notice the pain in his eyes.  
"You broke it a million times and that last time broke it for good. You made me say it and then you didn't even care enough to explain the call yourself. Two weeks! Two weeks before you showed up, two weeks before you even remembered me!"  
Molly's vision blurred and her voice was cut off by the big lump in her throat. She begged her body not to, but the tears spilled and ran down her cheeks. Embarrassed, she turned away from him, stifling sobs. She didn't want to cry in front of him. Damn this bloody hangover for compromising her self-control.   
"Molly", his voice was soft, shaking, close to her. The heat of his hands on her shoulders.   
"No!", she breathed, frightened and desperate. Once again she tried to to get away from him.   
"No, no! Molly. Molly!"  
Sherlock slung his arms around her despite her protest and pressed her back against his front, catching her wrists with his large hands. She struggled but he only pulled her closer and buried his face in her neck.   
"Molly. My Molly", she heard him breathe into her ear in between her sobs, his voice muffled by her wild hair.   
No! She didn't want to be his! She wanted to be free! No more. No more...  
Her insides were in uproar, fighting desperately to not feel his warmth - the wonderful warmth of his body - or the tight grip he had on her, as if he couldn't bear to lose her; or this delicious smell that was so much Sherlock she couldn't breathe.  
No matter how hard she tried, he never let her go. After what felt like an embarrassing eternity, the tears dried and her body relaxed against him. His arms pulled her closer and her heart skipped a beat. The longing she had buried so deep within her began to crack through the crust of scar tissue covering her heart. Just when she was about to allow herself to hope; another moan.   
Molly felt like she was about to throw up. There was that pain again, this pain that had almost killed her.   
She freed herself and stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself.   
"Take your fucking phone and get out."  
"What?"  
He sounded so confused. Fucking arsehole.   
"Molly, I-"  
The sound of her slap echoed through her entire flat. She had hit him so hard his head had snapped to the side. Her palm was prickling from the impact. When he turned his head back, his eyes were flaring with anger and wet with tears. It made her furious. He had no right to be angry. He had broken her heart, not the other way around. He had never loved her like she would have deserved to be loved. And yet he pretended to be her friend, left his things at her place and ate her food while he fucked another woman! A beautiful, stunning, clever woman who he had fallen in love with within a few days; who he had composed for when he had thought she was dead. Sherlock would never compose anything for her...  
Her bottom lip trembled when this thought rang in her ears, this horrible pain spreading inside her again. She couldn't contain it in her small body. She had to let it out or she'd run mad.   
"She will never make you as happy as I would have. What you have with her is nothing in comparison of what you and I had. I knew you felt it, too. For one second, you knew where you belong. But as always when it comes to real emotions, you ran scared. You destroyed everything, you sodding coward, just like you wanted. Now I can't even look at you without a vile taste in my mouth, so take your fucking phone with your fucking moan and get the hell out...And fucking stay away from me, Sherlock Holmes."  
During her speech, all sorts of feelings flashed across his face. But when she finished, all emotion was wiped away and he just stared at her, his jaw clenched, his chest heaving, his eyes wet. He swallowed hard, his lips trembling. Then he spun around and went to pick up his phone. As soon as the eye contact broke, Molly felt all strength leave her body. She could barely stand and prayed for him to be finally gone so she could crumble to the floor and cry out this pain before it consumed her. Her eyes were on the floor when he paused in his steps in front of her. Just go, she screamed silenty. But when he actually moved, it hurt even more. Of course he wouldn't fight. Not for her. Never for her.   
"Happy shagging", she bit out as he entered the hallway. She waited for the slamming for the door. It never came.  
"Wait. Are you jealous?"  
Sherlock came back. He actually dared to come back. Apparently, her hand would hurt even more in a few seconds. Her angry eyes darted up to him, saw him standing with his phone in his hand and her red handprint on the left side of his face. He didn't look angry anymore. He looked like he did after he had just solved a case.   
"I'm not shagging the Woman."  
Molly felt nothing for a moment. Then it seemed her heart was beating once; the first time in weeks.   
"I don't love her."  
Another beat of her heart. Traitorous hope blooming in her chest. No, no. No more hope. She couldn't survive another disappointment. After years and years of hoping he would finally return her feeling, she knew hope was an illusion.   
Sherlock started to approach her, slowly, carefully, like a hunter trying to catch a frightened doe.   
"There was a coffin. Your coffin, Molly."  
He was talking about Sherringford. John had told her everything, this morbid game his sister had played to destroy her own brother.   
The expression in his eyes made it impossible for her to look away.   
"All these years...not even Magnussen had found you. But Moriarty had. He had seen it. He told Eurus. And she showed me your coffin."  
His voice cracked. Tears blurred her vision.   
"I was so afraid. I've never been so afraid in my entire life."  
A tear ran down his cheek and he came to stand in front of her. Molly couldn't move. She couldn't think. All she could hear and see was him.   
"Moriarty threatened to burn my heart out of me...And the coffin, the bomb, the call...you...that's how he wanted to do it."  
Molly couldn't believe what she was hearing.   
"In that moment, when I saw your coffin and Eurus told me what I had to do...I felt it. I felt it happen...I felt my heart burn. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"  
Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, more tears rolling down his cheeks.   
"I saw you on that screen and thought it would be the last time I saw you, the last time I spoke to you...and I had to hurt you...break you..."  
He shook his head.   
"And I did. I would do it again. Because you are here, alive and breathing, slapping me, glaring at me, telling me to get the hell out of your life. And I don't care...All that matters to me is that you are alive. Because I cannot live in a world that doesn't have you in it...I cannot live without my heart."  
Molly's ears were ringing, her cheeks were flushed. Had he really just said all that? That hadn't sounded like him at all. Sherlock Holmes would never open up to her like this. Sherlock Holmes didn't love....  
And yet here he was, saying these things, looking at her with such intensity. It let the hope inside her grow and grow, until its vines were spread all across her body and was tightly tangled with her heart.   
"I've made so many mistakes, Molly. But I never lied to you. Not one word was a lie. I love you. I will always love you. You are right, I know where I belong. And if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, if there is the slightest chance for that...then I would like to come home to you."  
A sob broke out of her and she slung her arms around his neck, holding on to him...bringing him home. The phone clattered to the floor and Sherlock wound his arms around her, pulling her so hard against him she could barely breathe.   
"Molly, Molly, Molly", Sherlock whispered desperately, chanting her name like a prayer as his hands roamed her back to finally disappear in her hair. He buried his face in her neck and Molly heard him inhale deeply through her sobs and tears.   
They clung to each other as the storm of emotions raged through them, trying to pull them under. But they had each other, and together they could survive anything. Yet, it took a long time until their minds and hearts calmed down enough so the tears on their faces could dry. When Sherlock finally leaned back, Molly whimpered, still afraid this had been nothing but a dream. But Sherlock brushed the hair out of her face and the last tear off her cheek. His eyes were dark and red-rimmed.   
"I'm so sorry for everything I did to you...especially not coming to you after the call. I was hurting, my mind palace almost destroyed by resurfacing childhood memories...I wasn't strong enough. I let you down, just as Eurus had predicted."  
Molly shook her head in protest and cupped his face, struggling for words.   
"You are here now...and I'm still here. I will always be here."  
Sherlock's bottom lip trembled and he buried his face in her neck again. Molly held him, protected him. She always would and Sherlock knew that now.

Another moan.

Molly stiffened. But before she could react, Sherlock quickly bent down to pick up his phone. With quick steps he walked to the window above the sink, opened it and threw the blasted phone out. After he had firmly shut the window again, he turned around - and was greeted with the most blinding, lovliest smile he had ever seen on Molly's face. She giggled and he laughed. With a boyish grin he hurried to her and swept her off her feet, carrying her into her bedroom and into her bed which he hadn't slept it far too long. But tonight, he would. And every night they didn't spend at Baker Street. No more night apart.

Sherlock was home.

And so was Molly.

  
oOo

  
"You look..." Sherlock lifted a challenging eyebrow, "content."  
He smiled at the blue-eyed, red-lipped dominatrix across from him.   
"I am", he replied smoothly.  
The red lips widened into a smile. She took her cup in her elegant hand and sipped her coffee.   
"Told you it would work", she finally said, the entire reason why she had insisted on meeting him; so she could rub her cleverness in his face.  
"So you did."  
That was the closest to a thank you she would get. She knew that very well. But there was so much fun in teasing him.  
"The least you could do is name your first-born after me. Found out it's a girl two days ago, didn't you?"  
He only gave her a half-amused look, not at all surprised that she knew.   
"I don't think my wife would fancy the idea."  
Automatically, her eyes darted to the small golden wedding band on his ring finger.   
"Sherlock Holmes married and becoming a father...you've come a long way, my love."  
"Took me bloody forever to get here", he agreed and they shared a warm, knowing smile.   
They sat in silence for a while, drinking their tea, letting their eyes wander around the small airport café she had chosen for this meeting. When they returned to each other, the smiles were still on their faces.   
"Thank you", Sherlock finally said, the words coming from the depths of his heart. Irene tilted her head and looked at him for a moment. It was one of those rare honest moments between them. No games, no flirtation.   
"I'm truly happy for you and wish you all the best. If you should ever need anything-"  
"You will know."  
She laughed at that, pride glistening in her eyes. That was her cue. She gathered her things and rose from her seat.  
"Yes, I will. I will keep an eye on you...all of you."  
Sherlock nodded, remaining seated. It felt right to look up to her.   
"Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes."  
"Goodbye, Irene Adler."  
An honest smile from her red lips, then she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and left for her gate, the sound of her heels clicking on the stone floor slowly fading out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think most of us Sherlollies are wondering what goes on between Sherlock and Irene, especially after the meant ILY. I like to think that Sherlock reached out to her when he was hurting, that there is a friendship between them. In the case of my story, she has advised him to not give up on Molly and let the power of jealousy do its magic, means she has sent the texts on purpose (in case you didn't take this from the last scene).


End file.
